Trenzalore
by Clara 1996
Summary: A little 2 parter about the consequences of Trenzalore for Clara, first part the 11th Doctor, second part 12th Doctor.
1. Clara with 11

**Ok, I should actually be finishing After the Battle and Babysitting, but this idea came into my head! It's going to be a two parter, first part 11 and Clara, second part 12 and Clara. Please enjoy, I'm only just getting into Whoffaldi after 'The Girl Who Died', I'm in love with the little dance between the Doctor and Clara we see!**

 **I'll stop rambling now! This is set a few days after Name of the Doctor!**

 **Clara :)**

Trenzalore still haunted the Doctor, but not for the reasons one might expect. He'd had an encounter with the Great Intelligence who had jumped into his time stream, nearly lost Clara, and even run into his dead wife. But what made the Doctor so horrified wasn't any of this, but the knowledge that Clara now had to bear his burdens too. His best friend was now plagued with memories of deaths she had and hadn't experienced.

At first Clara had avoided sleep. Denied that she was tired when he caught her eyelids drooping. Eventually he'd had enough and hidden a sedative in her coffee. Yes it was unethical, but she was going to die of exhaustion if he didn't step in. He'd switched everything to decaf too, but she wasn't to know.

As Clara slept, the Doctor read. He had no idea of how to stop the memories of her echoes without erasing everything. It had practically killed him to do that to Donna, if he did the same to Clara... The Doctor's thoughts were interrupted by a scream coming from his companion's room. That had been a strong sedative, and the 1200 year old thought she'd still be asleep, after all it had only been 15 hours. She did have 3 days with no sleep to make up for. Another scream caused him to jump into action. Abandoning his book he jogged to Clara's room, armed with the sonic screwdriver to drive away any monsters.

When he opened the door he saw that Clara was still asleep. The sheet was tightly twisted around her, and the duvet lay on the floor all crinkled. Was it attack of the living duvet day already?

"Clara it's okay, I'm here." The small woman trembled slightly as she came out of her dream. Upon seeing him, she let out a small sob.

"Doctor, you're okay!" She went to pull the sheet off.

"Stay there, I'll come over." He instructed, sitting on the bed and pulling her into a hug. He felt a few tears land on his shirt, but didn't say anything.

"Tell me all about it, Clara." He said, not breaking the hug. Clara whimpered slightly before whispering:

"I remembered one of my echoes. She was in a library, River was there too. She had a team with her. Then I got lost, walked into a shadow. That killed me - her. Then my face went on some statue thing, it's there forever to help people. Getting it on there hurt though, even though I was dead." The Doctor hugged tighter, stroking her hair and back. He recalled the library as if it were last week, but knowing that Clara experienced it too...

"Vashta Nerada. It'll be alright, Clara, I promise." Kissing the side of her head he noticed that her breathing was starting to regulate.

DWDWDWDW

The next evening was more of the same. This time the sedative was hidden in a cup of tea and Clara didn't even make it to her room, instead falling asleep on the little sofa he'd put in the console room. For six hours she was fine, quiet as a mouse and still as a statue. Then, six hours and two minutes she began to toss slightly.

"No," She moaned, making him look around, "Not there, no." He debated on whether to wake her up or not.

"Please no." Her voice was getting louder. Moving as fast as he could, the Doctor was by Clara's side and pulling her into a hug. This effort earned him nothing but a slap in the face. As she was still unconscious he wouldn't hold it against her.

"Don't, please." Clara cried. This time he shook her slightly, putting a stop to whatever was about to happen.

This time she was embarrassed.

"I'm so sorry." She mumbled into his jacket.

"Hey," He soothed, rubbing her arm, "This isn't your fault, Clara. It's anything but that." He couldn't tell her that he was frightened too. Scared he'd done permanent damage. Could he ever let her go now? She seemed so desperately fragile, unlike herself. Maybe this was the price for her saving him, he'd have to watch over her forever.


	2. Clara with 12

**Okie doke, chapter two! Wrote this before chapter one, but forgot to put it up! Thank you for the lovely reviews, they made me happy when I got up and read them (Australia = time difference)!**

 **On another note, who else loves Jenna playing Bonnie? :)**

A dark narrow corridor was the scene. Two lights either side of the wall. Moving forwards she didn't walk, but glided as if on wheels. No legs - of course, her legs were trapped inside this cage. Progressing further down the corridor she saw a closed door. This didn't cause her to stop and as she drew nearer the door swung open of its own accord. Clara moved forwards, curious to see the next room, except it wasn't a room – this was a graveyard. There was Danny, stood by a grave. It wasn't the Danny she'd loved, it was Danny in his Cyberman gear, only distinguishable from the others by his face. Clara tried to move forwards, desperate to tell him that she loved him, one last time. Each attempt made only changed the words. The more she tried, the worse it got, making her more emotional. Then the gun fired, killing him right in front of her. Danny's death was on her conscious, again. Cybermen were better at dying, that was fact.

Heading away from the graveyard, passing out of the fence. The landscape started to shimmer, then changed. Now she was on Skaro, and she'd spotted the Doctor! At least the word Doctor came out the way she wanted. But of course he didn't realise it was her. Missy then appeared, Clara sighing in relief, but this action was in vain. Missy was poisoning him against her; the man believed she was a Dalek, responsible for his best friend's death. He raised the gun, pointing it directly at her, Clara screamed-

 **DWDWDWDW**

How the TARDIS got into this state, the Doctor didn't know! It was as if the wires tangled themselves up mid flight. It was no good, they wouldn't untangle, they'd have to be cut. Retrieving the scissors the Doctor was ready to cut when he heard a scream. It was, as usual, Clara. The first time he'd ever heard her like this has been a few days after Trenzalore. His old self had run in, expecting her to be getting attacked by Ice Warriors or something. When it was clear she was remembering her echoes, the Doctor had been unable to wipe them from her memory. Instead they were removed from the days, visiting her at night. As it had been his fault, he'd offered reassurance. Gentle hugs and listening as she spoke. After his regeneration he'd seen the initial attempts she made to hide the fact that she still had nightmares. Towels pushed against the door to muffle her screams. Then, once her and PE had grown closer she'd stayed on the TARDIS less. The Doctor assumed she was recovering. Until that one day PE had tracked him down and asked why his girlfriend woke up screaming in the middle of the night. Then they'd rowed, him and Clara, she'd left him for two months. The idea of her alone, grieving for two months on top of what she was already going through scared the Time-Lord more than he cared to admit. Clara reassured him she'd been fine, although the couple of marks still on her arm proved otherwise. Then they travelled together again. One night she forgot to put up the defences; or maybe she no longer cared. Either way he heard everything. If it had been the 11th Doctor then he would be in there doing a full on counselling session with her. But this was him, the 12th Doctor, so he ignored it. Yes, maybe he was being cowardly, this was his fault afterwards, but he decided not to tell Clara he'd heard her. Then, one time, the resolve had nearly been broken. She been screaming as if tortured, and yelled Missy's name. Hand on the door, the Doctor had then heard Danny's name come from her lips. She'd asked Danny to wake up, return to her, something which had broken the Doctor's hearts. She'd been surprised when she woke up, why had the Doctor gotten her a first edition of David Copperfield, signed by Charles Dickens too! The reason he gave was that it was a late Christmas present, then they'd gone on as usual.

As usual, the Doctor pretended he was deaf as Clara screamed. Right up until he heard a sentence which made his blood go cold.

"Doctor, don't kill me. It's me, it's Clara. Please." She didn't usually do full sentences. He paused, waiting to hear what she said next.

"I'm not a Dalek, don't believe Missy." This wasn't just a nightmare, it was a memory. From last week. Now, he may not be the Doctor that she'd run away with, the one who rushed in at the middle of the night to do night therapy, yet hearing her like this evoked something inside him. Putting down the wire cutters down he made his way to Clara's room. Lacking any type of grace, he walked straight in without knocking. The majority of the duvet was on the floor, aside from a small bit covering her small body. He'd always remarked to her about how small she was, a whole foot smaller than Amy (give or take an inch), but she was exceptionally tiny now. It was then the Doctor realised he didn't know how to wake her up.

"No, please Doctor, please." She begged. That did it. Quite firmly he put a hand on her shoulder.

"Clara, wake up." He commanded. No response. Giving a little shake her eyes shot open. Clearly the sight of him peering into her face wasn't something she'd thought to see for Clara screamed louder than when she'd been asleep.

"Doctor, what the hell are you doing?" The English teacher all but yelled. He shrugged.

"Was doing repair work, until I realised you were yelling about me." Clara moved slightly to sit up, pulling the duvet up with her.

"Wasn't just you," She sniffed, "First it was a corridor, then that graveyard with Danny, but – but then I ended up on Skaro." He presumed parts had been omitted. The older man had no idea what to do, although his prompt cards would give him the answer. Instead of searching through them, the Doctor stood up from the bed and headed towards the door.

"Doctor?" Clara called. He turned back to face her. What did he do? Apologise? Tell her he would never let her go through that again? How deeply cared about her? His duty of care, even?

"If you're up, brush your hair." Then he was out of the door. At least the wires couldn't talk back.


End file.
